


Dessert Before Dinner

by Jesse



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Breast Fucking, Humanformers, I AM SORRY, Kissing, M/M, Nipple Licking, Nipple Play, No robo-dick, Professional Attire, Strip Tease, basically Drift REALLY loves Ratchet's big heavy muscle titties, plus it's just wholesome anyway so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-23 06:39:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13184460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jesse/pseuds/Jesse
Summary: Drift swings by to drop off some sandwiches for Ratchet - and some dessert, too.Humanformers. Burly, dadbod Ratchet.You know you want to read it.





	Dessert Before Dinner

**Author's Note:**

> I just really like Dratchet everything.
> 
>  
> 
> _This is my first Transformers fic._

The door to his office opened for probably the thousandth time that day, and Ratchet fairly hunkered down behind his wall of mounting paperwork.

“First Aid, I already told you that I’m not taking any more -”

He’d dared to peek up at what he thought would have been his assistant, and was met with the sight of his boyfriend standing there, a cheeky grin on his face. Ratchet quirked an eyebrow before waving a hand in Drift’s direction, as if shooing him away. “I thought I texted you saying that I would be home late tonight.”

“You did. I just thought I’d drop by with something for you to eat.” Drift was holding a takeout bag from the deli down the street, which he rested on the corner of Ratchet’s desk.

Ratchet’s expression softened at that, not having realised how hungry he felt until he had smelled the familiar scent of a reuben sandwich inside the bag. “That was very kind of you, thank you. I’m sorry that I’ve been home late these past few nights.”

Drift waved Ratchet off this time, still smiling at him. “Oh come on now, I haven’t been suffering _too much_ because of it. I just think you need to worry about yourself sometimes. You treat yourself like shit most days, Ratchet.”

“Probably.” Leaning over the desk, Ratchet began poking eager fingers into the bag in hopes of finding that sandwich, only to have Drift grab his hand.

“Aww, come on Ratch, not even a thank-you kiss?” Drift winked in the doctor’s direction, enjoying the spark that flashed through his eye in silent reaction. Leaning over the front of the desk, Drift tucked his fingers under the top of Ratchet’s necktie, using it to pull the medic closer towards him. He could feel the desk chair scoot closer in his direction, Ratchet’s fingers on his wrist in the same instant, but not refusing. Just gauging. Ratchet’s lips were soft but firm, and his breath tasted faintly of peppermint candy. Drift hummed happily into the kiss, placing his other palm flat on the desk to keep himself from falling forward. It felt even nicer to have Ratchet not protesting the kiss, but rather seemingly wanting more, judging by the soft, intermittent moans that swelled in his throat.

“You wanted more than dinner, didn’t you,” Ratchet murmured against his lips, feeling the medic smile as he spoke them.

“What can I say?” Drift replied, pulling away enough to softly kiss along Ratchet’s jaw, “I’ve missed you for the past few nights. You’re a real ass for having me tend to myself, you know.”

Ratchet chuckled at that, his fingers gently brushing the underside of Drift’s jaw as he pulled away. “You didn’t get into this thinking I’d spoil you, now did you?”

“Nah, definitely not,” Drift grinned, standing straight up to save his straining back, “But you know, I’m never opposed to having a treat every once in awhile.” He took turns reaching his arms behind his back, stretching himself back to a comfortable state, all while Ratchet silently looked on.

“Get over here.”

Drift blinked, not before smirking in the medic’s direction. He did as ordered, walking around to Ratchet’s side of the desk, only to watch as his boyfriend stood up from the luxe office chair. Almost instantly, Ratchet’s hands gripped both his arms, moving him around and then pushing him to sit down in the chair in his stead. Not having any reason to complain, Drift complied readily with the medic’s direction, and totally not minding how nice the chair was. He’d have to get one for himself. “Dang, Ratch. If I was anyone else, I’d think that you were going to give me a little -”

His words were cut off as fabric suddenly hit him in the face. As his hands pawed at the material, he could smell Ratchet’s cologne, the strong scent of medical-grade sanitizer, and the ever-present smell of latex gloves. Sputtering, Drift pulled Ratchet’s lab coat away from his face, only left to gently hold it between his hands as his eyes were locked onto his boyfriend. He watched with nothing short of lust and awe as Ratchet was already starting to work at the topmost buttons of his white shirt, already having loosened his crisp, vermilion tie. Drift’s fingers curled gently into the coat fabric as the top two buttons were undone, his eyes caught up in the slightly greying hair that peeked out from underneath Ratchet’s shirt. He knew that the medic was taking his time, and that only made sitting here so much worse. Drift could feel his cock fairly starting to strain under his pants at this point, desperate to free it, but enjoying the show just a little bit more.

As Ratchet’s fingers unfastened a few more shirt buttons, Drift couldn’t keep his eyes off his boyfriend’s heavy pecs as they almost looked like they were pressing against the fabric of his shirt, waiting to be released. Drift’s fingers clenched tightly into the lab coat, almost having to stifle a moan as his cock throbbed inside his pants, aching for someone to touch it. He needed Ratchet. Badly.

It was honestly incredibly sexy how Ratchet left the shirt otherwise on when he was done unbuttoning it; his sleeves were pushed up to his elbows with crisp, perfect folds, and he had unknotted his tie and had let it hang around the back of his neck and the ends hung down the front of his opened shirt. Ratchet’s chest was nothing short of perfection as Drift fairly drooled at it, his eyes hungrily devouring the plump, heavy pectorals just waiting for someone to treat them nicely. A sparse but even forest of mildly-greying hair decorated Ratchet’s chest, growing more prominent and more thick down towards his soft but taut belly.

“Fuck, Ratch.. c’mere..”

Ratchet did as asked, allowing Drift to instantly wrap his arms behind him. He could feel Drift’s strong fingers pressing firmly into the small of his back, underneath the shirt, pulling him even closer towards him.

The lab coat was left where it had fallen on the floor, Drift now obsessed with running his fingers all over Ratchet’s lower back, feeling the soft, familiar skin against his fingertips as he buried his face against his boyfriend’s abdomen, planting kisses across Ratchet’s belly. The smell of his skin was so comforting - he always smelled like home, no matter what the hospital made his clothes smell like. Over and over, Drift pressed fervent kisses against Ratchet’s body, silently reveling in the sounds that the medic was making while he did so. Hushed, almost strangled moans kept eking from Ratchet’s lips while Drift kissed his body, his fingers gently threading through Drift’s hair.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

Using his gentle grip on the medic’s back to get him to kneel down on the floor, Drift immediately began fondling Ratchet’s chest, his fingers eagerly pressing at and squeezing the soft, burly muscles. He watched as Ratchet closed his eyes, clearly enjoying the touching, which only prompted Drift to lean forward in the chair and place his mouth back on the medic. Only this time, he simply started licking one of Ratchet’s nipples, his thumb making short work of the other one as he began rubbing it blindly.

He felt Ratchet’s body immediately shudder underneath him the moment he did so, a sharp gasp escaping the medic’s mouth. Drift lovingly and fervently licked at the nub between his lips, feeling Ratchet’s skin heating under his own, immediately detecting his boyfriend’s elevated breathing rate. He savored every single ragged moan from Ratchet as he continued to kiss and lick, one of the medic’s hands resting atop the one that toyed with his other nipple, fingers wrapped around and pressed tightly into Drift’s palm.

Moving his mouth to Ratchet’s other nipple, Drift reached up his free hand, pressing two fingers against the medic’s lips, who immediately opened his mouth to admit them. Ratchet’s mouth was hot and wet, and his tongue pressed firmly to the underside of Drift’s fingers, sucking gently on them in the process. The medic’s hand left his boyfriend’s, and Drift could tell that, even with his eyes closed, that Ratchet was palming his own cock through his slacks. Just knowing that only made his own erection feel so much more strained, and Drift began sucking harder at the swelling nipple against his tongue.

“Drift, a-ahh.. hnn…” Ratchet gently twisted his head to remove the fingers from his mouth, while his other hand wasted no time in finding the zipper of Drift’s pants, nearly breaking it as he yanked it downward, his fingers eagerly finding his boyfriend’s cock, stiff and swollen inside his boxers. Drift nearly cried against Ratchet’s heavy chest as he felt the medic’s quick fingers expertly pressing down his aching shaft, but still managed to keep up his end and continued to lick and suck at the swollen nipple between his lips. Ratchet’s fingers deftly enveloped his cock, giving it languid, teasing pumps, knowing that he was just being toyed with at that point.

Huffing loudly, Drift gently pushed Ratchet back, letting the medic sit on his calves, and admiring the sheen of his own saliva around those bright red, puffy nipples that only made Ratchet’s already very much appealing chest look so much more delicious. “Ratch.. Ratch, you can’t just do me like that..”

Crooking a smile, Ratchet reached his arm over to the desk, opening the second drawer, which was easy to reach from where he was kneeling. He pulled out a small bottle of that scentless lotion that Drift hated, and squeezed a rather generous amount into his palm. Drift watched with wide eyes as Ratchet began massaging the lotion into his pecs, having to catch his jaw from dropping as he watched Ratchet’s expert fingers push into the firm, delicious mounds of muscle.

Only when the medic cupped his own pecs between his hands and made an effort of pressing them towards each other, Drift felt like he might peak just from the sight of it. Still sitting in the chair, with Ratchet kneeling on the floor, it was already the perfect setting for something like this. Drift slid towards the edge of the chair, giving Ratchet easier access.

Scooting forward on his knees, the medic teasingly gave a couple of licks to the head of Drift’s cock, which made him nearly cry out, and then gently repositioned his pecs in his hands. Ratchet wasted no time in pressing them around either side of Drift’s shaft, kneading the muscle in his hands to further pleasure Drift in doing so. Drift, on the other hand, was already leaning against the back of the chair, the back of one hand pressed loosely over his mouth.

This seemed to please Ratchet to no end, judging by how he seemed to have doubled his efforts into tit-fucking his boyfriend. Drift tried to keep himself quiet, but the taut, slippery muscle enveloping his cock was already too much for him. Sharp, raspy moans pressed against the back of his hand, music to Ratchet’s ears, and Drift found his orgasm already starting to build up. In his defense, it _had_ been a few days.

Eyes twinkling, Ratchet began delivering little licks and kisses to the head of Drift’s cock as he lovingly fucked him from his kneeling position, feeling that dick throb mercilessly between his pecs as he did so. It was incredible how well Drift was responding to it all.

He watched as Drift’s fingers clenched mercilessly at the arm of the chair, teeth biting into the back of his other hand, and he knew that Drift was doing everything he could to stave off his own release. “Ratch..” he ground out, “Lemme.. cum.. on your tits.. please…”

Not having a problem with this, Ratchet gave a few more strokes of his pecs against Drift’s cock before letting go. He sat back on his calves again, using his hands to help poor Drift stagger to his feet. One of Drift’s arms wrapped around the back of his head, pulling him in as close as he could. Ratchet mirrored Drift’s earlier actions, feathering kisses across his abdomen, very nearly reveling in how Drift was stroking himself so fervently.

With a loud gasp and a sharp digging of fingers into Ratchet’s hair, Drift let himself peak, shuddering as spurts of thick cum splattered across the medic’s burly chest. Both of Ratchet’s arms went behind Drift’s body, pressing gently against his lower back, his deft fingers slipping underneath the fabric of his shirt to touch his skin. He kept inhaling Drift’s scent as his face remained pressed against his boyfriend’s abdomen, loving the feeling of his hot cum painting stripes on his skin.

It only took a few seconds longer for Drift to finish, his fingers weakly milking his own cock for whatever he had left, using Ratchet’s kneeling body to prevent himself from falling over. Ratchet wasted no time in gently slipping the softening cock between his lips, rolling his tongue over the head, tasting the lingering smears of Drift’s cum on the surface.

“Ohh fuck, Ratch.. for fuck’s sake..” Taking a step backwards, Drift nearly collapsed into the office chair, a shudder running through his body once he let himself relax. While he wouldn’t have minded Ratchet sucking him off for awhile, he was already in sensory overload.

Ratchet grinned in response, swiping a finger over his own collarbone, mopping up a thick smear of cum on his fingertip. “Dessert before dinner, hmm?” He quipped, licking the mess from his finger while Drift nearly cried at the sight. “Good thing I left room for that sandwich.”


End file.
